


The Sunlight On My Face

by IWillBeTheEndofYou



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bad Boy!Steve, Biker Gang, Daddy Kink, Doctor!Bucky, F/M, Lawyer!Pepper, Leather, M/M, Motorcycles, Sex, Smut, Violence, homage to Sons of Anarchy, lots of violence please be warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillBeTheEndofYou/pseuds/IWillBeTheEndofYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by/homage to Sons of Anarchy. I cannot vouch for the accuracy re: real biker gangs. </p><p>Bucky Barnes is a doctor on the run from a bad relationship and the drama of the ER. He accidentally gets pulled into the Avengers, a biker gang with some rather violent tendencies. Came for the life saving, stayed for the eye candy. </p><p>Can Bucky stand this life? Does Steve want him to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Ditch In the Road

**Author's Note:**

> This was a bad idea. I'm so sorry.

The bar reeked of leather and cigars. Bucky wrinkled his nose momentarily, smoking in bars had been illegal for years. Then again, most things that went on in a bar like this had probably been illegal for years. And after all, he only wanted a beer and a rest. It had been a long afternoon in the car, and he was desperate for a change in scenery and a chance to clear his head.

The Tower had been the first bar he'd seen. At least the music was decent enough, rock turned down just low enough so conversation could be understood. He ordered a burger and sipped on his beer, eyes sliding around.

Dim lighting, old jukebox, black leather jackets, men and women who laughed hard and drank even harder. This all went with the line of bikes he'd seen leaning outside when he stopped. This was par for a course for a biker bar, and even if it bothered Bucky, he wouldn't be there long. The faster he put another town in his rear view mirror, the better he would feel. The farther he could be from Alexander, the happier he'd be.

This was just another stop on that journey, he thought, feeling the condensation dripping down his glass. This was not a bar to remember, nor would this even be a night to remember, he thought wryly. A cheap motel where he'd pay cash. A night where he'd only doze, afraid every noise was someone reaching back for him.

He'd know when he'd gone far enough, Bucky thought to himself. He wasn't sure how he'd known, had been unable to explain it to Becca when she asked, tears sparkling in her eyes as she dabbed at his split lip with a cold cloth. It would just be a feeling, he was sure. It would just be a tingling down his spine to let him know that he'd gone far enough.

And then he could start a little practice. Could start seeing patients again, and this time not trauma in the ER. He was tired of that fast paced life, he was tired of putting his fingers in wounds to get the bleeding to stop. He wanted to see children as they grew, he wanted flus and colds, he wanted to caution old women about their blood pressure. That was the sort of doctor Bucky was dying to be. 

The shattering glass and scream behind him told him that perhaps life wasn't going to be so idyllic just yet. He spun his bar stool, half eaten burger and cooling fries forgotten. He peered through the crowd as they surged toward one spot. Their were shrill voices and hoarse shouts. 

“Holy shit, he's bleeding, he's bleeding! Get back!” someone was hollering, and the crowd parted. There was a tall, blond man laying on the floor, one hand pressed to his side. His tight gray shirt was staining crimson at an alarming rate. He was surrounded in a semi circle by a rag tag bunch, all wearing leather jackets that had a patch on the back with the word 'Avengers' and a solid star. A gang? A motorcycle gang?

That wasn't real, was it? That was only in those old fifties movies or those prime time gritty shows. Right? Maybe people rode bikes and hung out, but they certainly didn't stand in bars with knives our, lunging towards another group of people in leather jackets with a different patch on them. Except it was happening right in front of him. 

“Step back!” he shouted, seeing the blond man going whiter by the second. “Don't stab! Or shoot! Or whatever it is you're doing, I'm a doctor.” he darted for the man, kneeling down and lifting his shirt.  
“Sir? Sir, can you hear me? My name is Bucky, I'm a doctor, I can help you.” the man had a very well sculpted chest and abdomen, but now was not the time to be admiring him, not the time to be taking in the roughness of his fingers and how they would feel tracing down Bucky's spine. It was the time to be taking his pulse and frowning at the weak thump he felt there. “He needs a hospital!”

“No, he's got you. That's even better.” a shorter man with honey eyes and tousled hair gave him a rakish smile. Hands were around his biceps, hauling him up and dragging him out of the bar, past his car, to another nondescript little black car. He was tossed in the back, the blond man settled quickly beside him. Bucky ripped the shirt and pressed it to the stab wound, the edges jagged and turning pink already.

“Where are we going? To a hospital?” Bucky desperately asked the red headed woman who slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The blond man moaned softly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.   
“Hey, no no. You say with me, okay? Stay with me, eyes wide wide open.” he pressed a hand to the man's smooth cheek.

“Steve,” the man croaked out.

“His name is Steve.” red head glanced in the rear view mirror and gunned it, barely getting them through a red light. At this rate, Bucky was going to need a doctor for his heart attack. He squeezed Steve's hand.

“Come on Steve, stay with me, please.” he brushed a strand of that blond hair back from the clammy forehead. “Give me just a little bit, and we're going to get you fixed up, okay? Where are we going?” he hissed again to Red Head.

“We're going somewhere for you to fix him.”

“How do you know I can fix him? He needs a transfusion maybe. Stitches for sure. What if there's internal damage.”

“Let me repeat that.” her sharp green eyes caught his blue ones. “You will fix him.” Bucky heard a click, and the shiver down his spine let him know it was something other than opening a make up compact. The last thing Bucky needed was to be shot. 

“Right,” he muttered. “Tell me we're going somewhere sterile.”

“Well,” she turned them up a long, winding driveway. “There's plenty of vodka. I assume you can make do with that, right Doc?” 

It was hard to tell if she was joking. He managed a weak smile as they pulled up to what looked like a cabin. There was already a fleet of people on bikes. Bucky didn't take his hand off the stab wound in Steve's side.

“Tell us what you need,” Red Head demanded, opening her door and turning to look back at them.

Bucky could only sigh, close his eyes, and feel himself slide into trauma mode before he began barking out orders.


	2. A Hero's Gonna Save Me, Just In Time

It was not the worst stab wound Steve had ever had. That didn't mean it was a good thing, he mused as his cheek pressed into the sticky bar floor, a cigarette butt sliding into his hair. Gross. Good thing he'd take a shower after all this. And while it wasn't the worst stab wound, that didn't mean it was a good stab wound. Or that he was enjoying this at all.

Blood oozed through his shirt, his skin growing cold and tacky with it. He gasped, trying to press his palm to the wound, aware that wasn't entirely sterile. The rest of his club was shouting, and he heard the click of knives and other weapons being removed. He heard the rest of Hydra advancing, wondering if they really anticipated they'd be finishing the job this time.

Sloppy work, trying to do in the Tower. Thor tolerated an awful lot from the bikers, catered to a lot that other proprietors wouldn't ever want to darken their doors. But Thor wasn't going to let a murder happen. A fist fight, a few brawls that resulted in broken glass and tables, sure. Par for the course. Stuff that could happen in any bar. But murder? No. He knew that Thor would be out there very soon. 

His vision was beginning to blur, and this wound just would not stop. He was seriously hoping it was Thor with his big hammer to clear things out. Then they could head back to the clubhouse, and things would get better with a few ibuprofen and some bandages. But someone was kneeling next to him, reaching for his wrist to check his pulse.

Things were going too fast. Hawkeye and Falcon were helping him out to Nat's car. The man from the bar was next to him, his hand pressed to his cut. The man, with concerned blue eyes and floppy brown hair was talking to him sweetly. Asking him to stay awake. Steve knew that was important, it was like, 101 of being stabbed.

“Steve,” he manged to wheeze out. He at least wanted to give the man his name. The hand on his kin was warm and kind, the pressure was grounding. He wanted to reach for this man's hand, wrap their fingers together, blood and all. Who cared?

***

“Clear the table!” Red Head screamed as they hurried into the cabin, Bucky supporting most of Steve's substantial weight. He dragged the wounded man up the gravel drive way to the cabin, where the doors were thrown open. Someone was sweeping cups and plates off a table, someone else was dragging over a lamp. Still another person was piling rubbing alcohol, gauze pads, and a tin first aid kit onto the end of the table.

“Help me get him up.” Bucky didn't particularly want to look at any of them. His mind now was on his patient, the handsome Steve, and that awful wound in his side. The man was helped onto a table, and someone handed him a bottle of dark liquor.  
“He shouldn't be drinking! That thins your blood.” he said, aghast, as he dumped rubbing alcohol onto his hands.

“Brandy is practically water.” the man with the honey eyes and the messy hair gave him a winning grin. Like this was some kind of joke? “Besides, anything to help his pain.”

“How are we gonna get Hydra back?” another blonde guy wearing sunglasses was fuming. Bucky did glance at him, the hearing aids made him do a double take. Okay. Stranger things have happened and all that. Besides, right now, he needed to focus on Steve.

“Let's just get Cap patched up, okay?” Red Head had her hand on Sunglasses' shoulder, gave him a squeeze. Bucky splashed some rubbing alcohol onto the gauze and bent over, beginning to mop up the wound. He at least needed to see how bad it was.

“Turn the light for me,” he called over his shoulder, frowning at the edges. Ragged and harsh looking, this was going to leave a scar, even without infection. He couldn't promise no infection, being that he didn't have access to antibiotics to give the guy. Or the ability to run bloodwork and make sure he didn't contract hepatitis or something even more sinister. If he hadn't already. Bucky's hands ached for gloves.

He scrambled for the first aid box, happy someone had already opened it for him. To his surprise, there were needles and sutures, an Epi Pen, and other instruments that most people didn't have at home. He didn't want to look too closely at the pill bottles, afraid that perhaps what was inside was less medicinal and more recreational.

“Can you fix him, Doc?” someone was at his elbow. Bucky just nodded and poured out more alcohol on himself, grabbed a need for the sutures. 

“I can fix him. Someone just hold my light and no one interrupt me.” he bent his head and began to stitch the wound as steadily and carefully. They had said in med school that he had beautiful hands, hands that could have played piano.

Hands instead that he used to heal.

****

“Goddammit,” Steve whimpered about an hour and a half later. He'd been moved from the table to one of the plush couches that were pressed into the far wall of the clubhouse. He was still shirtless, and he was reeking of rubbing alcohol, though the taste of brandy was heavy on his tongue. His head lolled to the side, and to his surprise, most of the clubhouse was dark. There was only one side lamp on, and when his eyes adjusted, there was no one else.

Usually the place was littered with them. A few at the small bar, a few at the table playing cards or drinking. Sprawled out on the couches and chairs, the tv blaring a science fiction movie, or an action movie, or a documentary, if Nat got her way.

There was only one body, in a chair that had been pulled up next to the couch. The man's chin was resting on his chest, his hands were limp at his sides. His eyes were closed, and Steve watched the rise and fall of his chest. He looked so lovely asleep, he thought. His face was smooth, his hair floppy and just barely too long. He was a beautiful man, and Steve had always enjoyed beautiful men. He reached out to cup the cheek, rub his thumb against his cheekbone.

“What?” the doctor jerked with a snort. He glanced at Steve and smiled. His gray eyes lit up.. his fingers reaching for Steve's wrist.  
“You're awake. You look better.”

“I feel like death warmed over.”

“Considering you could have just been death, I guess that's pretty good.” thsose hands that he had concentrated on in the bar and in the car were gently examining the wound. “But I do good work, if I do say so myself.”

“A miracle worker.” Steve joked. The doctor blushed and chuckled, standing up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need water and a pain pill. I'm sorry I don't have antibiotics for you.” 

“Should tell Bruce, he can get some.” Steve rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand, accepting the cold glass and two small pills the doc handed him.  
“You didn't have to stay.”

“Well, I believe I have a responsibility to make sure my patients don't die on me over night.” he smiled wryly. “My name is James Barnes.”

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes.”

“Please,” he was blushing. Oh, Steve did love a man who could blush. “Just call me Bucky.”


	3. Sometimes I Need A Cold One

“Doc,” a hand was shaking his shoulder. “Doc, come on. You gotta wake up.” there was a crick in his neck and his lower spine ached. He hadn't felt like this since the last time he'd done an eighteen hour shift. He winced and pressed a hand to his neck as his eyes cracked open.

“Coffee?” he managed to mumble. The hand squeezed gently and a voice chuckled.

“A man after my own heart.” a familiar smell wafted to his nose and Bucky groped for the thick mug. He inhaled deeply and sipped. The first cup was always taken heavy and black. Then he could flavor it with cream and sugar

“Where's Steve?” he coughed out, trying to clear the dryness from his throat. The man from last night with the messy brown hair cocked his head for a moment, looking too awake for this bright hour, if the pink of the sky was anything to go by.

“Cap, you mean. He's out on his morning run.”

“On a run!” that snapped Bucky awake. “He was just stabbed last night! He's got stitches, doesn't he know he could pop a stitch?”

“He knows.” Messy Hair shrugged. “I just don't think he cares.”

“That little punk is gonna care by the time I get through with him.” he threw back the rest of the scalding drink and stood up, cracking his neck. Messy Hair almost giggled and skipped along beside him as he strode out of the cabin to the porch. Sure enough, Steve came loping up the dirt drive way, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Hey, Cap! Doc said he's gonna undo the anti death stuff he did last night!” Messy Hair called. Steve stopped and had the grace to look a bit sheepish. He headed up to the porch, albeit at a much slower pace that what he had been doing, and what Bucky suspected he was able to do.

“Good morning,” Steve wasn't even really breathless as he stopped near Bucky, his arms crossed over his chest. “I woke up and I felt better?”

“Get inside. Get on the couch. Strip off that sweaty shirt.” Bucky barked in the same tone of voice he used when three car accident victims came down the   
chute at once. Steve shuffled inside, dutifully taking off his shirt as he went. Bucky watched the rippling of his back muscles and bit his lip. An elbow nudged his ribs, and he turned to glare at Messy Hair, who looked about thirty seconds away from a good cackle.

“We do love the way our Cap looks.” he purred. Bucky only scowled and went to the sink in the bar to wash his hands quickly. He went back to Steve and examined his stitches, pleased that they had stayed together. The area wasn't even pink, and it held no heat. It seemed like he'd get away without an infection, which satisfied Bucky.

“You really, really need to rest for another few days.” he eased back on his heels to fix Steve with an icy stare. He almost gasped when their eyes locked. Last night he hadn't gotten the chance to really appreciate the blue of Steve's eyes, like the time that his parents had taken him to the ocean. The sky and the water met, and it was a place you could fall into and find yourself wrapped up in warmth and safety. 

A place where you could be whole.

If you could ever reach it.

Steve just nodded and licked his lips. He put on the fresh t shirt that Messy Hair held out to him. Bucky didn't stand up as the biker did, but did take the hand that was offered him. A hand that was rougher and more scarred than his own. A hand that made a jolt of electricity travel up his spine. He gulped and shook his head.

“I need a ride back to my car, please.” he said instead. “I really do need to move on. Go to the ER if you run a fever, go to your doctor in a few days for a check. Don't wait if you see any swelling or redness.”

“Oh, Doc.” Messy Hair looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “We had our car driven here last night and parked it out around back so it would be harder to spot from the road. Not that we aren't hidden out here in the trees the way Brucie Bear likes it.”

“Oh, great. Can I have my keys, please?”

“It's ah, it's not that simple.” Steve flashed him a sympathetic smile, rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. His elbow bent high above his head, and Bucky tried not to enjoy the way that looked. He tried to focus on the blush that was rising on Steve's cheeks.

“What do you mean? Are my tires flat or something?”

“Not exactly,” Steve hedged.

“What Cap here is trying to say is, you can't leave. It ain't safe out there for you. Hydra saw you, Hydra saw us put you in the car with your fingers in the wound. They think now if they hurt you, it would be a big blow to us.”

“Hydra? Hurt me? What exactly is going on here?” Bucky put his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes. “I want some answers.”

***

“A biker gang.” Bucky repeated.

“No,” Steve corrected, leaning against the bar. “We're a motorcycle club. We're a bunch of people that happen to like to ride motorcycles together.”

“And sometimes we run guns and drugs and other nefarious things.” Messy Hair supplied. Bucky looked from one man to the other.

“Okay, well, be that as it may, I do not ride bikes. Nor do I get into nefarious things.” he raised an eyebrow. “I promise not to go to the cops about what I may or may not have seen. Just let me get on the road before it gets too much later, and no one will have to see me leave. Then Hydra won't know where I've gone and we can all get on with our lives. Well. I can get on with my life, you guys will still have to deal with them I guess.”

“I'm afraid I can't let you do that.” Steve swallowed hard. “They're probably sprinkled all over the highway, they're waiting for you, Buck. I can't let them hurt you, not after what you did for me, and for the club here.”

“I didn't do anything for all of you. I hope I didn't do anything for all of you, anyway. You don't seem like the type that I really want to help. I know about the Hippocratic Oath, but even I have limits.”

“By saving him, you saved the rest of us.” a beer was pressed into his hand. It wasn't even ten o clock, but Bucky found himself drinking.  
“Until we can think of a safe way to get you out of here, I'm afraid you're stuck here with us.”

“And you are?” Bucky finally thought to ask the man who had woken him up that morning.

“I'm Tony Stark.”

“The Iron Man,” Steve's voice held a note of amusement. Bucky just looked him up and down, trying to figure that one out for himself.

Tony unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt and parted the fabric. A rather impressive scar ran down his chest. Bucky wanted to reach out and touch it, feel the surgeons' work beneath his own hand. Could've done it better myself, he thought. This was, of course, the first thought he had whenever he saw medical work done. All doctors felt that way.

“Artificial. Sate of the art. All that jazz. The Tin Man doesn't have a heart, but I couldn't stand the thought of being that weak.”

“I see,” Bucky murmured. “You really shouldn't be drinking.” Tony just raised his glass in a salute and downed it.

“I shouldn't really even be alive.” Tony shrugged. “I figured I ought to live it out when I can.”

“So what am I supposed to do in the meantime, while you're figuring out how to get me out of here safe?”

“You're a doctor. We get in fights. You fix us up. You keep Tony alive as best you can with all the knuckleheaded shit he does. You just... You sit tight. And for what it's worth, Bucky, I am sorry.” Steve pushed himself off the bar and headed for the door, pausing to pick up a helmet. 

And then they were gone, leaving Bucky alone in the cabin, staring out as the leaves stirred n the trees.


	4. One Mile To Every Inch

“Doctor Barnes?” the door opened and Bucky jumped, attention snapping from the daytime show he'd managed to find on the tv tucked away in the corner. He was telling himself it was only to stave off boredom, but now he really did want to know who the baby's daddy was.

“Oh! Hello, which one are you?”

“I'm Bruce.” the man smiled, ruffling his salt and pepper hair. He closed the door behind him and stepping a little closer. “I came in to see how you were doing. Tony said he and Steve had to leave you here. I just thought that sometimes it gets a little lonely up here.”

“What is 'here', exactly?”

“It's the Avengers clubhouse.” Bruce grinned, the tips of his ears going pink. He seemed to feel like this was a little silly, saying it out loud. Like talking about a secret fort or something. Bucky just gave him a small grin in return.

“It's a pretty nice set up,” he gestured around. “I have to say I'm impressed with your first aid kit, at least. Who got that together?”

“Ah, that would be me.” he cleared his throat. “I used to be an EMT.”

“Really?” Bucky was impressed. “Then you could have helped Steve that night, huh?”

“I don't actually like touching blood. Made the job hard.” Bruce made a stupid face, and Bucky laughed lightly.  
“No, I could have. Not as well as you though. I think that's mainly why they keep me around, doing all the medical stuff.”

“Well, at least I know they won't die in a heap when I get out.”

Bruce just looked at him for a moment. His eyes seemed to peer right into Bucky, seemed to dig into his soul. It made the doctor squirm, made him feel nervous like the first time he'd had to do a tracheotomy. He looked back to the TV.

“Did Steve tell you when he thought you'd be able to leave?”

“He said for me to sit tight. That he'd figure something out. Why exactly is Hydra angry at you guys anyway?” 

“That's complicated.” Bruce sighed. “They want our turf. They want to come in here and bring drugs and guns.”

“Don't you guys run guns? That's what Tony said last night.”

“Tony runs his mouth a lot. You shouldn't listen to everything he says. Or anything he says. Just pretend Tony doesn't speak. You're going to be a whole lot happier if you do that. Clint, too. In fact, no one but Steve and Natasha speak, and sometimes me. There.”

Bucky burst out laughing, burying his face in his hands. Bruce chuckled, nestling himself back into the couch and folding his legs in the Lotus position.

“So what made you leave the EMT and come here to live on the edge in a little cabin?”

“I liked riding a bike, and I've known Steve since I was little.” Bruce shrugged. “One thing lead to another. You'll find that most of us say that. Except maybe Tony, I legit think that Tony just wanted to be part of something dangerous.”

Everyone seemed to smile when they talked about Tony. 

“I've never ridden a bike.”

“No?” Bruce grinned. “Oh, Bucky, you should not have told me that. Steve is going to have a field day with you.”

“Tell me more about Steve.” it came out faster and more eager than Bucky wanted. Bruce just raised an eyebrow and Bucky looked away.

“You could tell me more. You've had your fingers inside him after all.”

“Bruce, I get the feeling you're a little shit.”

***

Steve came in a few hours later, carrying a few plastic bags. He found Bruce sitting still on the couch with Bucky sprawled on the floor, laying on his belly.   
He swung his legs in the air, his feet bare. Steve was taken in by the shape of his toes, long and tapered like his fingers. He admired the high arch in his feet and wondered with it would be like to run his fingers up it.

His jeans were sliding up his ankles, and Steve wanted to kiss those, too. He wanted to bite, feel the salt of the skin there against his teeth. He wanted to leave a bruise and then soothe it with kisses. His eyes slid up to the swell of Bucky's ass. He could write odes to that ass, the way it filled out those jeans, the way it swayed when Bucky walked. He bet it was firm, and he wondered how it would look sitting on the back of his bike.

“Green!” Bucky called out as he laid down a card, snapping Steve out of his reverie. He realized then the two were playing Uno, of all things.

“We got bored of chess.” Bruce looked up with a small smile at his friend. “We were tied and then Bucky spotted the Uno cards.”

“I'm totally winning.” he flashed Steve a winning smiled and turned back to his hand. Steve slipped into the kitchenette and began to pack away the groceries he'd bought. Some more bottled water, strawberries, and some frozen burger patties. 

Tony had encouraged him to buy more junk food. He said the good doctor would be needing some comfort food. This was certain to be a trying time, the shorter man wheedled as he shook a bag of potato chips. But he was a doctor after all, certainly he'd want to be healthier, right? He'd have to want that.

“You like cards, Bucky?”

“I like Uno.” he shrugged. “I'm good at Uno.”

“I'm not convinced he doesn't stack the deck.”

“You cannot cheat at Uno, not unless you hide cards up your sleeves or something. I, for one, and wounded that you would even suspect me of such an evil thing!”

“Oh no,” Bruce stood up, rubbing the small of his back. “I don't think I can listen to another distraction tactic.”he held out his hand to Steve. “I'm going to make something for lunch, will you sit in for me, Cap?”

“Sure,” he had to stop himself from diving for the cards. “But let's make it a little bit interesting.”

“I'm listening.” Bucky smirked. He put his chin in one hand, those feet kicking lazily.

“If I win, you come with me for a ride on my bike.”

“If I win.” Bucky countered. “You don't go for a run for three days. You sleep in and you rest.”

“High stakes, Doctor.”

“Indeed.” Bucky held out his hands. “I know how ugly bike accidents get. Deal?”

“Deal,” Steve clasped his hand.


	5. I Can't Help It If I'm Lucky

It was, perhaps, the most intense game of Uno that had ever occurred. Bruce sat on the couch, amused by the proceedings. Cap didn't even look this intense when they were playing poker, even when they were betting who would clean the bathroom in the clubhouse that weekend.

Bucky, for his part, was doing really well. It was almost like he could guess just what cards Steve was holding at anytime. And he kept getting draw fours and reverses, and Bruce wasn't even sure how that happened. Unless, of course, he had been cheating. But that would just make this even better in the end.

But Steve was nothing if not determined. They actually had to reshuffle the deck, having nothing left in the draw pile. It was then that Bucky began to look a little concerned, and the tables seemed to turn. So he had been cheating. 

It only took a few more cards before Steve came out triumphant and the good doctor looked crestfallen and disappointed. Cap jumped up, whooping and jeering.

“I would have expected that from Tony. I thought you were better than that, Steve. I really did.” Bucky tried to look reproachful.

“You were sorely mistaken.” 

“I could have told you that.” Bruce laughed from the couch.

“Do you have a second helmet?”

“Wait, you mean you're going to take me right now?” Bucky squeaked as Steve hauled him up off the floor by his elbow.

“There's no time like the present! C'mon Bruce, I'll give it back.” he threw a puppy dog look at the ther biker and caught a black helmet in return. He dangled it at Bucky in an inviting way. The doctor just looked from the biker to the headgear and back again.

“I don't think I can do this.”

“You cannot back out on a gentleman's bet.” Steve waggled his eyebrows. 

“I can, in fact. We signed no paperwork. There was nothing notarized. I don't believe I have to do legally do anything.”

Steve looked imploringly at Bruce, who only held up his palms. He tried to wander out of the room, not wanting to see how this was going to end. He really didn't want to know what sort of tricks the Cap would pull out on Bucky to get him to take that ride.

****

“This is a really bad idea.” Bucky stared at the gleaming metal, tried not to look at the way Steve was caressing the handle grips.

“It is not a bad idea. I'll have you know that I have never gotten into an accident.” 

“So that doesn't indicate to you that perhaps you're due for one?”

“I don't think that's the way it works, Buck.”

“Maybe! Karma, or something, I don't know.” he swallowed hard, his brain lighting up at the use of the nickname.

“Just sit down behind me, okay?” the blond man straddled the machine, and the brunet crept up behind him. Tentatively, he swung his leg over, settling onto the warm leather seat, his chest pressed close to Steve's back. He reached his arms around that waist, felt the steel muscles beneath his arms. It would be so nice, he thought, to curl up to him like this at night. When they were laying on their sides, or after they'd made love, or after they'd had fast sweaty sex.

Where did that thought come from?

And why did he have to be the big spoon? Bucky would rather be the little spoon.

“See? Isn't this nice?” Steve's voice was a rumble through his body, goosebumps growing on his arms. 

“I will neither confirm nor deny my enjoyment of our present activity.” he mumbled, resisting the urge to burrow his face into the biker's back and inhale.

Bucky wanted to memorize his smell, something hot and dangerous, and something warm and thick. An expensive kind of cologne. Bucky never really wore any, hospitals were a light fragrance or no fragrance place, but he loved the way Steve smelled. He wanted to inhale until it burned. He wanted to keep it inside of him, or have a scarf that smelled like that.

“Well, I'm enjoying it.” Steve purred. He reached up and adjusted Bucky's arms around him. “See? I can even adjust the kick stand.” a click of metal and Bucky was gasping, clutching even tighter. He suddenly felt less stable.

“I don't think this is a good idea!” Bucky managed to stammer out.

“You know something? You're right.” the kick stand was returned to it's resting place, and the doctor breathed a sigh of relief. He eased back, ready to shift his weight and slide off the stupid machine.   
“Here!” 

The extra helmet was plopped on his head, and Bucky made a mental note to thank Bruce for that later. Perhaps he needed a tetanus booster, or even a prostate exam. Then again, if butts were going to be touched, Bruce's was not the one that he thought he'd like.

“Is this really necessary?”

“You're a doctor, you know how important helmets are.” he got a dark look from the biker. “I don't let people on my baby unless they're wearing the proper protection. I won't even make an exception for you.”

And didn't that just make Bucky want to shiver?

“Well, I seem to be all kitted out now. Are we doin' this?”

“You're into now, huh?”

“Punk,” Bucky mumbled as Steve mounted the bike again and his arms were finally back round that waist. 

“Jerk,” Steve said playfully as he lifted the kick stand. He revved the engine a few times, just to feel Bucky's arms tighten around him. The doctor's heart was pounding, and Steve loved the feeling against his back. He wondered what else would get his heart going like that.   
“Are you ready?”

“If I say no, is that going to get you to stop this and take me inside, like a civilized person?”

“No, I don't think so.” Steve chuckled.

“Wait, wait, please! I'll do anything you want, Steve. You can change the terms of our bet, you can. Please!”

“Okay,” Steve straightened up. “I think I want a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Bucky repeated, feeling his face heat up. That sounded do-able.

“After our bike ride.” and before the doctor could protest, they were off.


	6. I Feel So Untouched

The most unusual thing was the wind. It wasn't blowing on them, as Bucky was so used to when he walked. Instead, they were slicing through the wind itself. It was strange and cold, and just a little bit disturbing if Bucky thought too hard about it. 

What he found himself enjoying was being wrapped around Steve. He liked their thighs tucked so close together, and he really liked being so close to Steve's ass. You could bounce a quarter off Steve's ass, and that was not at all a bad thing.

They roared down the road. The only noise was what they made themselves, shattering the peace you only heard deep on country roads. A silence that hid secrets and lies. A silence that made Bucky believe that for a little while, he could be safe.

He hadn't forgotten that Hydra weren't the only ones looking for him. Truth be told, it wasn't the rival biker gang that made him afraid to sleep at night. Strange that a group of very angry people with a lot of weapons weren't the ones that made him double check his locks at night. It was one man with a pair of fists.

“You okay?” Steve hollered over the bike. Bucky jumped and realized he'd tightened his grip on the other man's waist. He barely restrained himself from burying his face between his shoulder blades. Like there was anything he could do to protect him.

“I'm fine!” Bucky yelled back. “I just thought we were going to go over a bump or something.”

“Don't be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you.”

If only that was a promise he could keep. If only he knew what a promise like that really meant. Bucky just swallowed and loosened his grip. He was going to enjoy this bike ride if it was the last thing he ever did.

Steve steered them into a curve, laughing as Bucky tightened up on him again. The metal vibrating between his legs, the man behind him breathing hard. It was enough to make him harden in his pants. 

He wanted his kiss.

He wondered how Bucky would taste. He didn't have any cologne on, but there was the faint odor of his musk. A little sweat, and something pure and clean. It made him think of sunlight on grass damp from rain.

Steve had to admit that he tended to be a touch sentimental.

They were going up the driveway to the clubhouse now. He stopped the bike, but didn't move to make Bucky let him go. The doctor fel nice snuggled into his back. He finally eased off the arms around him, put up the kick stand. He squeezed the doctor's shoulder and undid his helmet. Steve let his fingers cup Bucky's chin.

“What did you think?” he asked softly.

“It wasn't as horrific as I thought it could have been.” he mumbled. The venom was out of the brunet's voice though, and his lower lip quivered slightly. Steve couldn't help but consider how lovely the other man looked like this. His cheeks were pink with the sun and the wind, his lips were swollen and damp from being licked. 

“That's good.”

“You don't really think you're getting a kiss now, do you? You stuck that on at the end, and I had to ride this bike.”

“But you liked it.” Steve whispered. “And you might like a kiss, too. You won't know until you try, will you?”

“You are such a little punk.” Bucky breathed as their faces came closer. Bucky's eyes fluttered closed, exhaled softly. The woosh of air over Steve's cheek made him shiver slightly.

“You gotta thing for punks then, Doc?”

“I gotta thing for you.” it slipped out before the doctor could stop himself. The pink in his cheeks wasn't just wind chafing now. He leaned forward and pressed his face into Steve's neck. One hand was in his hand, rubbing his skull.

It was warm and comforting and it was just what he wanted.

“Steve!” the silence around them shattered, and they almost leapt apart. Bucky scrambled off the bike, smoothing his hair down as the door swung open.  
“Pepper's here.” Tony looked gleeful.

“Oh, good.” and just like that, Steve was striding into the cabin, the leader of a motorcycle gang, and Bucky was left with the tingling on his lips. 

**** 

She was red haired, tall, poised, fashionable, with the most polite smile that Bucky had ever seen. She was sitting at a table with Bruce, sipping from a cup of tea. Tony scurried over to her and dropped down into a chair next to her.

“Steve, it's nice to see you again.” she rose and smiled at Steve.

“You too, Pepper.” he pecked her cheek. “What do you have for us?”

“I got the drunk in public charges dropped, but it wasn't cheap. You're going to need to dip into your treasury, I'm afraid.”

“I can cover it.” Tony piped up. “It was my charge, anyway.” 

“You wouldn't have to cover it if you'd quit being an ass.” Pepper didn't look up from the file she was flipping through.

“But then we wouldn't have those court dates.”

“You could just ask me out.”

“But you'd say no. You always do.” Tony pouted, taking a swig of his beer.

“Some of the Hydra guys gt locked up for an armed robbery, and I know you were trying to dodge at least some of them.” she handed him a sheaf of papers. “Is this the doctor that kept you from bleeding out?” she nodded to Bucky.

“It is!”

“James Barnes,” he held out his hand, felt her cool skin in his. Her nail polish matched her suit. Classy. She titled her head in a way that reminded him of one of his anatomy teachers. That was not a pleasant memory.

“Virginia Potts. I'm the lawyer on retainer for the Avengers. Should I be adding you to my list?”

“Uh, well, maybe. I guess.” he shrugged. “Do you guys just try and keep a string of professionals on your bank roll?”

“We do,” Bruce gave him a sheepish smile. “It helps with some of our little problems.”

“Are we discussing Tony's drinking problem?” the other red head came in, dropping onto a couch. What had Bruce mentioned her name was? Natasha, right.

“It's only a problem when I get caught.” Tony sulked as a tv was flicked on. Steve and Pepper continued to talk, and Bucky felt himself melt into the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd let them kiss so fast, did you?


	7. We're Buzzin' Like That No Vacancy Sign

Tony plopped down onto the couch next to Bucky. Someone, Clint or Sam, he wasn't sure, had brought in several casserole dishes. Meals were plated, and someone handed him a dish and a spoon. He ate whatever it was, layers of chicken and vegetables in some kind of sauce. 

Tony picked at his own plate, eyes looking longingly across the room. Bucky followed his gaze to Pepper. She was sitting primly, her suit still wrinkled. She was smiling at something Bruce was saying, accepting a glass of something colored and fruity looking.

“How come you aren't dating Pepper?” Bucky took a bite.

“Because she's a good person with a real life, and I'm some kind of outlaw biker. And I can tell you, that does get you a lot of ass, but it's not that ass.”

“What?” Bucky stared. Tony sighed, miserably.

“She's a lawyer, she spends most of her time keeping us out of prison. She's really smart, and pretty, and kind, and she's just—she's got a wicked sense of humor. She's the only girl that I've ever really liked.”

“What do you mean?” 

“There are a lot of girls who hang around here. And I have slept with all of them, several multiple times, and sometimes several at once.” Tony took anther swig of his drink. “But it's always her face I see. She's the only one I want there.”

“Well, you could start by not sleeping with all those other girls.” Bucky drawled.

“Hey, shut up. I'm hurting and that helps.” Tony scowled.

“Are you dirtying up the doctor?” Steve sidled over. He sat on the arm of the chair Bucky had curled into. An arm looped around his shoulders, and he was pressed into the biker's side. “Don't show him your sores, we don't enough in the treasury to pay for his fees and therapy.”

“Shut it, Steve,” Tony slunk away, headed to the bar for another beer.

“I wouldn't have charged him.” he looked up at Steve, who gave him an amused look. “I never charge for chairty cases, and Tony clearly needs a lot of help.”

The biker laughed, pressing his cheek to the top of Bucky's head. His breath smelled of alcohol, sending chills down the doctor's spine. He was warm and heavy, and he wished the blond man would just come and snuggle in next to him. He wished he could sling himself into his lap, the way Clint had a woman stretched across him. Or the way that Sam had a woman pressed up again the wall, one of he legs wrapped around his hips.

“You wanna go somewhere else?” Steve's voice was low in his ear, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

“Only if you're the one taking me.”

It was bold, and a blush bloomed across his cheeks. Steve stood, taking Bucky's hand, leading him down a dark hallway. He opened a door and almost pushed the doctor in, slamming the door behind hm.

The room smelled like Steve. Like leather and what Bucky now knew was the motorcycle's engine. And that dark spice again. He flicked a switch, and a dim light came on. There was a desk covered with papers, and he could see they were sketches. The brunet wanted to get closer, but there were hands on his elbows, spinning him around until he was facing the biker again.

Their lips crashed together then. Steve's hands were heavy and warm, thigh and rough against the more delicate skin on his face, still a little tender from their bike ride earlier. Steve's lips were soft, and he tasted like alcohol, but Bucky felt his body lighting up. 

They were walking then, towards a bed. It hit the back of the doctor's knees, and he felt himself bending towards the mattress, one arm wrapped around his waist. He wasn't going to let him collapse, he wanted to lay him down gentle.

Steve was climbing onto the bed, and their lips had never parted. Instead, a tongue was swiping at his lower lip, wet and trusting. He opened his mouth, and that tongue licked into him, sampling him. Bucky whimpered, his hands going to the back of Steve's head, clutching handfuls of hair, restraining himself from yanking.

“Are you drunk?” Bucky managed when they broke the kiss with a gasp. Steve leaned back, looking down at the doctor. Brunet hair spilled around his pillows,   
swollen lips slick and parted. Icy gray eyes blown wide.

“I might have had a few to drink, yeah.”

“Then please don't kiss me.” he whispered.

“Wait, what?” Steve supported his weight on his palms, looking down at the doctor. Bucky sat up and slipped out from under him, leaning against the headboard. His hands went to his hair, disheveling it as he tried to settle himself down.

“I don't want you to kiss me when you're drunk.” Bucky managed. “Kiss me when you're sober, lay me down in your bed when you're sober. Or not at all.”

There was a beat of silence while Steve blinked and tried to process what was being said. Before he could speak, Bucky was trying to get off the bed. His face was bright red, and his eyes were damp again. Steve leapt up and stumbled after him.

“Wait, wait, Bucky, no, please.” he reached the door first, holding the knob. “Don't leave like that. Okay? I'm sorry, you're right, I'm sorry.” he was babbling and knew it, he just wanted to stop the way that Bucky's hands were trembling.

“I don't want you to only like me when you're drunk.”

“I don't only like you when I'm drunk.” Steve's voice was soft. “I'm sorry. I like you a whole lot.” he leaned against the door and gave his best puppy dog look.

“Okay.” Bucky swallowed. “So. I'm going to go and shoo some people off the couch. Okay?”

“No, stay in here.” Steve said quickly. “It's a huge bed.”

It was a king size bed. It did seem much better than the chair he had been in. And maybe if he slept, Steve would take a day off running. He shouldn't have even been drinking with his injuries. He frowned thoughtfully and slipped towards the bed. Steve grinned and grossed the room in what felt like two steps to the dresser. He pulled out a couple pairs of soft pants and a few t shirts.

“Okay. I'll be in my bathroom changing. You change out here.” Bucky moved stiffly, changing into the clothes that smelled f Steve's laundry detergent. He gingerly laid in the side of the bed that looked less rumpled.

Steve came out a few minutes later, hovering at the side of the bed. Finally, he switched off the light and crawled in. He laid, leaving the distance between them. Cautiously, he reached out for Bucky, putting his hand n his hip.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, his heart in his throat.

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured. He scooted back, until there was less than an inch of space between them. The heat radiated from Steve, and Bucky felt his body relax into the mattress. The arm looped around his hips, Steve's breath gentle on his neck. 

“Good night, doc.”

“Good night, scary biker.”


	8. Like Waves of Sweet Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky explains his past

Steve woke up sometime in the night. His head was already throbbing, and his stomach as tight and aching. He groaned softly and nestled farther into bed. There was another body in with him, he realized. He reached out and pulled it closer to him, his arm wrapping around the slim waist.

“Steve,” a voice whispered. The voice dripped over his soul, coated him like honey. The throbbing of his head seemed to ease, just a little bit. Steve buried his nose in hair, inhaled deeply, and let himself be eased back to sleep.

Bucky woke up in the morning before Steve. He tried to undo the arms around him, but it only served to tighten the vise like grip around him. He was barely able to roll over and face the blond man. One of Steve's eyes cracked open, blood shot and gritty looking.

“I feel like shit.” he croaked out.

“Yeah well, you shouldn't have drank that much.” Bucky snorted. “Let me up, you little punk. I'll get you some water and some medicine.”

“You come from God in Heaven.” Steve finally released him and rolled onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. Drama queen, Bucky thought to himself as he scratched his belly and headed for the bathroom.

It was fairly clean, shutting down yet more stereotypes about biker gangs. Bucky pulled open the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He filled a rinse cup with cool water and brought it to his friend.

“Could you?” Steve opened his mouth pitifully. The doctor could only roll his eyes and slip in two pills and help him sip the water.

“At least it keeps you from going out on a run like that.” Bucky set the water to the side and clambered back into bed. Steve somehow managed to curl up into him, like he was a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter. He snuffled and burrowed into Bucky's neck.

“What were you doing at the bar anyway?”

“I was getting something to eat.”

“I know. But you looked exhausted. I notice you as soon as you came in. I always notice the people in the bar around us. I was expecting Hyrda to do what they did. And I saw you, and you just looked exhausted.”

“I had been driving for a long time.” Bucky hedged. “Probably too long. I probably shouldn't have been in the car at all, really.Should have stopped hours before.”

“But why had you been driving for so long? Your car was packed with all these boxes, and it looked like you'd just thrown the stuff in there.”

“I left in a hurry.”

“But why?”

“Shouldn't you be resting?” Bucky's hand stroked up and down Steve's spine. He felt the strength of the muscles there, the warmth of the skin. He could feel the straight knobs of the bones there, was glad.

“Buck....” The doctor sighed then, couldn't quite bring himself to look down at the man in his arms. How long had it been since he'd been with someone who made him feel so safe? Been with someone he was actually able to say no to?

“I was leaving my home town. Quit my job at the hospital. Emergency medicine, it's intense, and it's rewarding, but it really eats you up. You know? So I had to leave that, and I want to open up my own practice. Find a small town, be with people their whole lives. See babies born, see kids have colds. Watch kids grow up, help old people when it's time for them to leave this life.”

“That sounds beautiful.” Steve said softly. “But that doesn't explain why you left so fast. Or why you haven't been hounding us to let you go because you have a job waiting fo you somewhere.”

“And maybe there was someone I really wanted to leave, and I wanted to get away from them really quick. There, happy?”

Steve's arms just tightened around him. He pulled his face out of the crook of Bucky's neck, and instead let the brunet rest on his chest. Bucky let his ear rest against Steve's heartbeat. The steady rhythm gave him something to focus on.

“I'm sorry that happened.”

“I didn't love him. We only went on a few dates, and then he got weird. I don't know, he was always in the hospital hallway when I was working. Show up at the coffee shop where I got my drink after my shift. I thought it was strange, and I told him I didn't want to see him anymore. But he just kept showing up more. Would sit out across from my apartment, was driving up and down my Ma's house when I went there for Sunday supper.”

“You didn't go to the police?”

“Nah, his dad was a politician in that town. Buddies with all the cops. I thought he'd start seeing someone else and then things would settle down. Only he didn't wany anyone else, I don't think. It was over a month. And one day, I got into my car and he was there. Sitting in it. Beat my face pretty good before I could throw him out of the car.”

“But then you went the cops?” Steve asked hopefully.

“No. I went to go see my little sister. She wiped up my face and iced my knuckles. I put in my two weeks and then I just threw shit in the car. I didn't see him between the night we fought and leaving, but I was sure he could still be following me. So I just kept driving.”

“Bucky,” Steve said softly. “What was his name? That dude who hit you?”

“Alex Peirce.”

Steve didn't say anything more, he only nestled Bucky farther into him. His arms were heavy and warm on Bucky's back, soothing and gentle. Bucky's fingers hung loosely over his collarbone, and the biker's breath was hot on his cheek.

“I don't think you're going to have to worry about him anymore.” his voice was a rumble in his chest.

“Of course not. I got far enough away. He won't come looking for me again, I don't think.” the doctor yawned. “You need more rest.”

“Of course doctor.” Steve chuckled.


	9. Can You Stop The Lies Falling From the Skies

“There's one thing you need to understand about the Avengers.” Natasha, Scary Red Head from the night he met them, dropped down onto the couch next to Bucky. Bucky looked up from his newspaper in surprise.

“Is there? Just one thing?” Natasha gave him a small smile and turned the liquid in her wine glass, letting it catch the light.

“We protect what is ours.”

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly. “I don't think that's unusual. Doesn't everyone? It's sort of a primal thing, isn't it? Aren't we, as humans, naturally really possessive?”

“No, you don't understand. There is the possessive nature that you're talking about, and I think it's true that most people deal with that on at least some level or another. But not to the level we do. When you're with one of us, you're sort of with all of us.” she gave him a dry look.

“Um, I'm really not into that whole like, polyamory thing.” Bucky stammered. “Not that you're all not lovely people, of course.”

“That's not really what I mean.” Natasha laughed softly. “I mean that once one of us has decided that they love you, we all love you. And we will all do whatever it takes to protect you. But make no mistake, we'll protect the members of this family before we will an outsider. And for now, you are still an outsider.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Natasha? I'm not a stupid man, but I dislike being spoken to in riddles.” his voice was harder then.

“I'm trying to tell you that unless you want to be part of this life, you need to commit to it. Not just to Steve. Steve, he's a really special guy.” she paused for a moment.

“I know that. I've always known that.” Bucky whispered.

“Right. So then you'd understand if we didn't want anyone to hurt him.” she leaned back into the cushion, sipped from her wine glass and smirked.

“How many people have you hurt, Natasha?”

“There's more red in my ledger than will ever be wiped clean.” she made a lazy gesture. “But then, I think the same could be said for anyone in here. Except for you. You're the only one here who actually does something good in the world.”

“You guys could all do good things if you wanted.”

“We could. Sometimes we do.” she acknowledged. “But often times, bad things get in the way of those good things. I'm not sure they weigh each other out. We might try really hard to keep drugs out of this town, but we sure don't mind running guns through here. We might not like people who beat women and children, but we aren't shy about prostitution rings. You get what I'm saying here, cupcake?”

“Don't call me cupcake.” Bucky's face was going red. “Why are you telling me all this, Natasha?” the others were all in the room, milling about, talking, watching television, playing pool or cards. He looked up and saw Steve watching them. Bucky just forced a smile and a wave. 

“I'm telling you this because you seem like a genuinely good person. And I know you wouldn't ever want to hurt Steve, you'd never do anything that you thought would hurt him. But I think that your conscious would start to weigh on you. Maybe you go to the police. Maybe you decide that it's too much for you and you run. Either way, you break his heart. And then we have to break you.”

“Shut up,” he spat, standing up. “Stop it. You don't know me at all.”

“You're right.” she nodded. “I don't. Because people like you don't come around people like us. And if you're going to leave, I think you should do it now, doctor, before Cap over there falls anymore in love with you.”

“He is not in love with me.” Bucky snorted.

“You don't know him like I know him. He doesn't fall in love, not really. He goes stumbling in, slips to his knees before sinking. He doesn't even realize it until it's too late.” Natasha set her glass down. “Now calm down, before you upset him.”

“Fuck off, Nat.” he snarled before he headed for the door, slamming it behind him. He heard the breif silence that overtook the room before Steve's voice told them everything was going to be fine. He leaned against the porch railing, looking out into the shadows that hid even the lonely drive way.

“What's the matter?” Steve walked out, closely the door gently behind him. He didn't step closer to Bucky, leaned against the wall instead, arms crossed in concern. Sometimes, Bucky thought, sometimes big men liked to make themselves look smaller, so they weren't as much of a threat. 

“Apparently you don't get much involved with people who aren't all—cigarette smoke and gun running, like you guys?” Bucky turned to him, hands in fists by his side.

“I'm not really sure what you mean.” Steve frowned.”

“Come off it, Cap,” the sarcasm dripped from his words. “Are you only into me because I'm different? Or did you just want to drag me into it because I have a very specific skill set that is beneficial to your family?”

“Bucky, why in the world would you think that?”

“Because your red headed snake in there just told me that you don't hang out with people like me. She made it sound like you do some pretty nasty stuff, and I just won't be able to stomach it. Is that it, Steve?” Bucky demanded.

“Everything we do, we do to keep this town safe.” Steve's tone went serious, commanding. “I would never do anything that would make this place unsafe. That's why we're running Hydra out.”

“Prostitution rings keep it safe?”

“It's not what you're thinking, Bucky.” the biker reached for him then, and the doctor yanked his arm back.

“I'm pretty sure it's exactly what I think it is. Exploitation and criminal.” he turned back away, looking into the darkness of the night. “One of your people needs to take me to my car. I'm leaving town.”

“I can't let you go.” Steve said softly. He walked forward to Bucky then, his breath warm on the small hairs on the back of the doctor's neck. “It isn't safe for you to leave.”

“Is it safe for me here? I'm starting to ask questions.”

“You're entitled to ask questions. I know we're unorthodox. Even scary. But I promise, Bucky, I promise that it isn't all that you're thinking it is. And I can't let you go, not knowing that Hydra is out there and that they know who you are. They know that you're a way to get to me.”

“And did you do that on purpose?” Bucky spun around, found himself trapped against the railing with Steve's hands on either side of his hips. He was boxed in, heat radiating off of Steve's chest But Bucky shivers anyway. There's an air of violence just under Steve's skin, and the brunet isn't sure if he's excited or terrified.

Or both.

“I never would want to put you in a place where you're hurt. But you're here now. I'm sorry, Bucky. But there's nothing I won't do to protect what's mine.”

“But I'm not yours.” Bucky whispered. “You don't own someone just because you help them, or you want them. That's not the way this working. I know that,” he paused there,   
swallowed “I know that someone like you is used to that. But that isn't the way it works in the real world. I'm leaving, Steve. And you cannot keep me here if I wanna go. I will leave with or without you and the rest of the Avengers helping me.”

“I am not just going to give you the right to walk away from us like this!” Steve boomed, shoving away from the railing, his back to the doctor. “Don't be an idiot, Bucky. Come back inside. You don't have to come to my room, you don't have to speak to me for the rest of the night. We'll talk about it in the morning.”

“I said no!” Bucky yelled. “Fuck it, I'm leaving.” he turned and hurried down the steps, rushing down the drive way.

“Wait! Bucky!” Steve screamed. “Wait!”


	10. Wrap Your Name In Lace And Leather

The compulsion to run did not plant an idea in his head where to go. He just ran, aware of the cool night air cutting through his shirt to his skin. He race down the driveway towards the road, disappearing into the darkness.

While he ran, Bucky strained his ears for the roar of motorcycles. He didn't want Steve and the others to find him. He didn't want to look into those big blue eyes, or be tempted by the width of that heavy chest. He just wanted to be away from the Avengers, back to his car, back to his running.is was just another pkace he had to get distance from.

Wasn't that the story of his life?

Distance. Running. Lies.

The roar of engines came ringing from the night. Bucky dove into the trees surrounding him, buried himself in the foliage. He peered from the shadows, watching as the bikes came screaming by, each holding an Avenger.

The slowest one was Steve. He was scanning those shadows, where Bucky was hiding, trying to find him. And even if he did, what could he say,? Could he apologize? Could he tell the doctor he was right, and that he was free? Or would he try and spin it and say that to be owned was to be protected?

And more to the point, was Steve even wrong to think that?

He shivered once the bikes were gone, kept himself in the woods. He knew they'd have to come back at some point.. He knew they couldn't think he'd have gone that far. But to walk on the road got him a better chance of hitching a ride. Maybe.

Or maybe he wanted Steve to turn back around and come for him. Bucky wasn't sure. These thoughts and feelings swirled inside him, leaving his gasping. He swallowed down his heart in his throat, walking slowly on the shoulder, squinting for headlights.

And then there came another growl of bikes. He froze, turning towards the fleet of headlights coming towards him. Could they see him? They didn't slow down. They didn't care. He threw his forearm over his eyes against the glare, when one of them stopped just past him.

His eyes adjusted, and the doctor felt a sinking feeling in his gut. It was the red monster from that first night in the bar. The same emblem adorned their jackets, and suddenly they were all surrounding Bucky. He spun around, eyes darting, knowing there had to be a way out.

“Well, well, well.” a man leaned forward with a sneer. His face sported two long slices down the sides. He had facial hair that almost made him think of Tony, but there was something colder, darker about this man.  
“Aren't you the pretty little thing that saved Cap's ass the other night?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Bucky spat. He may not understand much about this, but he had figured that not speaking was the safest route. The man just smirked and cocked his head. Bucky couldn't help but notice he wasn't wearing a helmet.

Organ donor, he thought bitterly. His stomach turned, thinking back to all the car accidents he had seen in trauma.

“You're gonna take a little ride with Zola, Doctor.” the man leaned forward. “He's got the van, and you're going to ride in the back to go see Skull.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you!” Bucky tried to shrink back, almost stumbling over the wheel of a bike.

“He'll never come quietly, Rumlow.” one of the men cried out. “We're gonna have to tie him up.”

“Oh no,” the man, Rumlow, smirked and shook his head. “Doc is much too smart for that nonsense. He'll come with us without kicking up too much of a fuss. Because if he doesn't, the next time we see Cap, we'll slice him to ribbons.”

“And just why do you think I would care about Steve?” Bucky set his chin.

“You just told me. No one calls him Steve. Not really.” Rumlow shook his head. Bucky froze, staring into his heartless eyes. 

A van pulled up quietly beside them, and Bucky climbed in. 

****

The ride was thick and silent. A squat man with a very round face and glasses drove them. Bucky sat in the back of the van, his knees pulled up to his chin. He should have stayed with the Avengers. At least then Steve would have been safe.

He had no doubt he was bait. They were going to use him to get to Steve. And even though he had cooperated, he was sure this time he'd end up dead. Maybe they'd all end up dead. At this point, it almost seemed better than seeing Steve and either begging him for forgiveness or watch him die because Bucky had a tantrum.

When the car stopped, the back doors swung open, and meaty hands gripped his forearms. He thought about kicking, about screaming, but there was no one to help him. And maybe being quiet would buy him a little time.

He was walked into yet another clubhouse. This one was darker than the Avengers' place. Dirtier. Smelled thickly of smoke and spilled beer. There were a few women lazing around, but none of them looked Bucky in the eye.

Before he could look around too much, a figured stepped towards him. He felt eyes sliding up him, and closed his own only for a moment. Inhale. Exhale. His heart throbbed in his ears as the body came closer to him.

When he opened his eyes, it was all he could do not to gasp. The man before him was hairless, his skin red and ridged. He'd obviously been burned, surprising he was still love, really. To Bucky's real shock, his eyes were clear, all seeing and frightening.

“And you must be Steve Roger's new pet.”

“No,” he cried out before he could stop himself. “I'm not anyone's anything. I'm just Bucky.”

“You're much more than that.” a gloved hand caught his chin. “At the very least, you will be.”


	11. Can't Find A Better Man

“Find him?” Bruce was waiting on the porch for the others as they came up the driveway on their bikes. The look on Steve's face told him all he really needed to know. The president of the club slumped his way into the clubhouse.

“He hasn't been back here at all?”

“No, I'm sorry.” Bruce said softly, running his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “Maybe we should call Fury, see if we can get the police looking for him.”

“Or maybe we should just let him go.” Natasha was leaning against the door way. Every head swiveled to her direction. Clint visibly cringed and began to back away, headed for the bathroom, or the bedrooms, or outside, or anywhere but that room at the moment.

“Why would you even say something like that?” Steve's hands clenched in fists at his side, like they so often did when he was trying to contain his anger. Bruce looked warily between the two and slithered away, deciding that Clint clearly had the right idea.

“Because he's a liability, Cap. Sure, he came here and he saved you. I'm grateful for that, we're all really grateful for that. But keeping him here has been nothing but a distraction to you. You haven't even mentioned how we should retaliate against Hydra! You've been too busy trying to get into the doctor's pants.” Natasha tossed her hair back and fiddled with the sleeves of her coat. Something she only did when she was feeling anxious, something that only Steve knew about her.

“I have never heard you complain before when I found someone else to drag back here for the night or the weekend.” Steve said in a low, dark voice.

“They didn't make you act like this. You're like some kind of princess or something.”

“Natasha,” Steve warned. “You are skating on thin ice. This isn't the way to talk to your president.”

“It is the right way to protect the club! Isn't that what all of us are supposed to do? Protect the club?” 

“Yes, but not running my personal life!” the man snapped back. He crossed his arms and stared hard at the red head. “We owe him.”

“We do, and maybe we should have just taken him wherever he was going. Maybe we should have just assured him he'd be safe until he got out of here. Maybe that would have been better than leaving him here to be with you.” she raised an eyebrow, not at all intimdated by the president.

“You know if you hate the choices I make so much, you're free to bring it to a vote. You wanna do that, Natasha?”

“I want you to care more about this club than you do what goes on in your pants!” she threw her arms up in despair. “Why don't you understand that? There's nothing wrong with Bucky, except the fact that he's here. You know he doesn't belong here anyway. He's a doctor, for Christ's sake. He belongs with rich people, he should have a designer dog, he shouldn't be locked away in a club house of some MC.”

“You have no idea what he's been through.” Steve hissed through his teeth. “You run your mouth an awful lot. I seem to remember some people thinking you shouldn't be here. Don't forget, we know where you've come from. You might not be from Hydra, but the Red Girls isn't much better.”

“Steve,” she looked like she'd been slapped. “I didn't mean---.”

“Yes, you did. And so did I. And I'm not sorry.” before he could turn and leave, Bruce poked his head back in the room.

“I just got a text. From Rumlow,” the other two froze and stared at him. “They want to see us.”

“How is that different from any other day?” Natasha made to move past Steve, but Bruce shook his head.

“No. He sent me a picture text. They've got Bucky.”

****

Bucky knelt on the floor, his wrists criss crossed and tied with rough rope. Someone had tied a dirty bandana over his eyes. They hadn't gagged him, which was just as well. Bucky didn't have anything to say in this situation.

“They're coming,” he heard Rumlow say. “Texted me back they were on the way. Falling all over themselves to get to the Doc, here.” 

“Who could blame them?” the burn victim, whom he'd heard called Red Skull chuckled. He felt his hair pulled and gasped, but allowed his body to go along with the motion. His cheek was shoved to the gritty floor, and a hand brushed roughly down his flank. The doctor shuddered.

“Aww, see, he likes it.”

“Stop it.” Bucky mumbled.

“Don't rough him up too bad.” Red Skull sighed. “It'll just piss Rogers off, and I want him to think he has a chance. Be a better fight.”

“Got that right. I've been itching for a fight with the Avengers for awhile.” he could hear the smile in Rumlow's voice.

There was the distant rumble of motorcycles, and Bucky shuddered. Whatever was going to happen was going to be rough. He almost wanted to scream out to Steve, tell him not to come. Tell him to bother, because there was something about the sudden silence that fell over them that was suffocating and dangerous.

He smelled something metallic and oily. It made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, made him want to curl into a ball. The bikes got closer, and his heart pounded harder. Someone could die, and he wouldn't be able to do any stitches or staunch any bleeding. There was nothing he could do to help.

Someone was going to die. And it would be his fault.

The door opened and there was a great thumping of boots. The doctor could only wriggle towards a couch or chair and use it to prop himself up. He squirmed and wriggled, hoping to slide down the blindfold.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted. He rushed across the room to him, lifting him to his feet and undoing the blindfold. He wasn't smiling when he looked at the doctor, though. “All right, Skull. We've got Bucky. Tell me what you want from us?”

“Just wanted you to be here.” and Bucky realized what that metallic scent was. Skull had a gun pointed directly at Steve.

“Let's all just take it easy here.” Bruce said softly, walking slowly into the room, hands up fingers spread. “Put down the gun.”

“Hell no,” he swiveled, pointing it towards Bruce. Steve took the chance to shove Bucky away, ignoring how he stumbled and went down to his knees. He scrambled behind a couch, curled tight into himself.

And then the scuffle started. There were shouts and screams. The doctor peeked up over the back of the sofa. He saw fists flying, he saw Natasha sitting on a man's chest, her fists flying. Looking closer, he saw the man's face looked like hamburger. He wasn't making any move to try and fling her off, and she wasn't making any move to stop. Her knuckles were stained with blood, and bruised from the motions.

Bruce had someone's head, smashing it repeatedly into his knee. He roared when another Hydra member leapt onto his back, flash of silver from the knife in his hand. Bruce threw the man in his hands and reached back for the one on his back. He shouted again as the tip of the blade made a deep cut in his side.

There was blood and screaming. Sam's lip was split, oozing down his chin. Clint's eye was swollen almost shut, and Tony's cheek purple. Maybe something was broken. But Hydra down on the floor was much worse for the wear. None of them were moving, although they were a few groans. Bucky hoped none of them were dead.

Sam was supporting Clint, Tony was pressing a rag to the cut on Bruce's side. Steve and Skull were on the ground rolling, and Bucky scurried away from the brawl, running almost directly into Natasha. She eyed him, but neither one said anything for a minute. 

Steve let out a yell, sitting on Skull's back. He lifted his head and slammed it repeatedly into the floor, the man was blowing bubbles in a puddle of blood. He moaned softly as Tony darted forward to coax the man off.

“Come on, we gotta get out here. You know someone heard all that. Come on, Steve, let's just get home, okay?”

Steve's face was a mess of bruises, blood trickled from his nose. He stared at Bucky for a moment as the doctor stared back. He was afraid to reach out the biker, afraid of hurting him more. Afraid of what touching him might mean.

“Get on the bikes. Let's get back so we can get patched up and talk about this.” Steve barked. He reached out and took Bucky's hand, yanking him towards his bike.


	12. With Bruises On Her Ego

Staying balanced on the bike was not the easiet thing that Bucky had ever done. He could feel the swelling in Steve's ribs, was certain one was cracked. Neither of them spoke, Bucky letting the other man's back take his full weight. He felt drained and shaky, unsure exactly what had happened.

At the clubhouse, Steve helped him off the bike, and they made their way up the steps, their knees trembling. Somehow, dragging their way past everyone else, they made it to Steve's room. He almost dumped Bucky on the bed, just careful so he wouldn't bounce on the mattress. Bucky let his eyes drift shut as he listened to Steve in the bathroom, running water and shuffling stuff around. He came back and carefully took Bucky's hands, looking at his wrists.

“What was all that about?” the doctor managed to croak out, his body finally stopping its trembling. The biker swallowed a few times before dabbing a little ointment on the raw skin. He couldn't quite bring himself to look the doctor in the eye.

“Sometimes clubs get mad at each other. We fight over turf. Where we sell guns. Where we sell drugs. Where we have our whores.” 

“And you try to kill each other?” Bucky lifted himself up on his elbows. Steve just rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as he did so. With an eyeroll, the brunet coaxed the hem of his shirt up and eyeballed the bruises on that taut flesh.

“We try not to, if we can help it. But there's only so much space.”

“I thought that you wanted to do good things.” 

“Sometimes doing bad things gives you room to do good things.” Steve said softly. “I don't expect you to understand. I should have told you the truth, I should have explained all of this to you.” he eased himself down on the bed, covered his eyes with his hands.

“Are you keeping me here because you want me to be safe, or because you can't stand the thought of letting me go?”

 

A heavy silence draped over them. Bucky laid down beside Steve, gently. The answer, he realized, did and did not matter. He hadn't tried to leave before this. He had been told he could not and accepted that. He had never questioned it. He had been willing to swallow whatever lie Steve fed him.

Because, Bucky had to admit, staying here with the man on the bike still seemed like a better option than continuing his ride into nowhere. He wanted to stay.

But he wanted staying to be his decision.

“Maybe it was both.” Steve finally let his hands fall away. He turned his head, light eyes searing into eyes that were so close to the same shade. “And now you feel so far away from me. I should have let you go that night.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Because once I knew you, I didn't want to be without you.” he swallowed hard, again. “And because I was afraid that you really would leave. Please, Buck, please try and understand.”

“People don't own people, Steve. I need you to understand.” he hardened his heart and let ice creep into his voice. “You can't keep me here just because you want me that badly. You can't keep me because I don't belong to you.”

“I know that!” Steve's voice rose, and the brunet flinched. He knew it wasn't from anger, rather fear and shame. “I know that people don't belong to people. I just hoped that maybe you could have wanted to belong to me.”

“It isn't that I don't. It's that... that I can't do that again.”

“Do what? Do what again?” but the doctor was rolling away, turning his back to the blond. The wounds still felt too fresh, everything still felt too raw. He curled tightly into a ball.  
“Buck, I just want to keep you safe.”

“You did a bang up job of that, didn't you?” he snarled, aware that he wasn't being fair. But Steve only sighed.

“I deserved that.” he didn't reach across the gap to the other man. He didn't wrap his arm around the slender wait, pull him in tight. He didn't drape his body over the doctor, as much as he wanted to. He should have been better able to protect him.  
“I forget, you know? I forget that sometimes lying isn't the best way to protect someone. What you have to see, Buck, is that the less you know, the less there is to hurt you. And so when I don't tell you things, I just want to preserve your safety the best way I know how.”

“I think the best way to do that would have been letting me go.”

“It would have.” Steve agreed. “And I'm sorry, Bucky. If you want to leave here in the morning, then I will arrange for you to have an escort outta town. Far away.”

“Far away is what got me started here.” he snorted.

“I wish you would tell me whatever it is that you're running from, Doc. Maybe I could make it better.”

“There's no one that can make it better. I learned that. I just gotta be away from it.” he craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the blond. “Please, Steve. Don't ask me   
any more questions. Please?”

“All right.” he whispered. “That's fair.”


	13. So Let Mercy Come

Steve didn't ask him questions for a few days. When Bucky opened his eyes the next morning, Steve was gone. He thought the biker had just gone out for a run and shuffled to the coffee pot. The club house was suspiciously empty, and he sat in the silence with his cup, watching the sunlight coming in through the dust on the windows.

But Steve didn't come back. Instead, Bruce came limping in. He gave Bucky a sheepish smile and headed for a cup himself.

“Hey, Doc. Good to see you up and around.” he winced as he lowered himself down onto Bucky's couch.

“Are you okay?”

“I've been worse.” he shrugged “Don't worry about it.”

“You were like a different person last night.” Bucky said quietly. He peered down into the black liquid of his cup. 

“It only happens when I get angry. I try not to feel that way. Too easy for someone to get hurt.” he looked thoughtfully at the doctor for a moment, his head cocked to the side. 

“You should let me look you over.”

“Nah,” Bruce shrugged. “I just need a few days to rest.” he cleared his throat. “But really needed to let you know that you aren't going to be seeing the rest of the club for a few days.”

“Days? Where's Steve?”

“Steve and the others had a run to do.” he looked uncomfortable. “You're better off not asking me what they're running exactly.”

“Guns, drugs, or women, huh?” Bucky scowled. 

“That's about the size of it.” another sheepish smile. “Look, Doc, I know this hard for you. I think it's hard for anyone in your position. I think we've all lost someone to this.”

“Then why do it?” Bucky put his cup down, turning to face the biker. He was surprised, as always, by the light and life that reflected in those eyes. 

“Because we aren't...” he paused. “I know that it sounds like we're bad guys. And I admit that we do some pretty awful things. It's just that when I joined, I saw that I had a chance to do something good. We really are the lesser of two evils. Hydra had you yesterday. Do you think that they'd hesitate to recruit underage hookers and toss them out with no protection?”

“I guess not.” he said softly.

“Do you think they'd make sure they didn't sell bad meth? Do you think they'd stop one person from cooking meth right next to a school?” Bruce scrubbed at his face “Sometimes you gotta get dirty before you can get things clean.”

“Wouldn't it be better if you just kept all that stuff out of town altogether?”

“It would.” the biker agreed. “But that's not realistic. Everything we do is to keep other people safe.” he swallowed. “And we owe you and apology, Bucky. When you helped Cap, we should have kept you safe. We didn't do that.”

“No one made me run off like that.”

“No, but we all knew he was getting in too deep if he wasn't going to explain everything to you.” Bruce sighed. “He didn't not tell you just to keep you in the dark. You know that, don't you?”

“Honestly, Bruce? I'm not sure what to believe anymore. I mean, when I met him and there was a bar fight, I realized this wasn't on the up and up. But there's limits.”

“There are.” Bruce nodded. “Steve's lost a lot of people this way. This club is like a family. An he just wanted you to be part of it. But he thought he could do that without exposing you to all the bullshit, and it doesn't work that way. It's all or nothing.”

“But he made that choice for me.”

“He did.” Bruce conceded. “And that was wrong. But Bucky? No one comes through this town unless they've got something to hide.”

“Maybe I was just getting something to eat.”

“Not with your car stuffed with cardboard boxes like that. Not with them half full and clothes spilling out. That's someone who left in a hurry.” one raised eyebrow. This wasn't Bruce trying to accuse him, or pry. The biker was just letting him know that he wasn't hiding as well as he thought he was. And maybe, if Bucky was being honest, he had known all along he hadn't been hiding well. 

“Maybe I did.” the doctor mumbled.

“I think, either way, when Steve gets back here, you two need to sit down and talk this out.”

“Yeah.” Bucky muttered. “You might be right.”

**

The roar of bikes cut the stillness of the woods. Bucky sat upright from his blanket, where he had been snuggled onto the couch. Ever since Steve had gone, he hadn't wanted to sleep in that bed, preferring to make nests on the couch. His heart was in his throat as he walked towards the door. He heard voices, laughter, footsteps. It was like life was coming back to the clubhouse.

The doctor paused by the knob, unsure if he should reach out for it or not. He stared as it turned and was thrown open. His eyes traced up the dirty jeans and leather jacket, to land on Steve's face. A little stubble, his hair mussed. His eyes bright and wide.

Neither spoke a word as Steve slowly spread his arms wide, helmet danging from one hand. Bucky leapt into those arms, pressing his face into the windburned neck, being held tight to that broad chest.

“Missed you.” he whispered.

“Missed you,” Steve whispered back into his ear, stubble tickling. They clung to each other for a moment, the rest of the club flowing around them. Steve finally pulled back, his hands coming up to Bucky's cheeks.

“You left without saying goodbye.” he pouted. There was an air of play about it, but Bucky was sore about it. 

“I'm sorry.” he murmured. “I needed some time.”

“Yeah, maybe I did too. I think that we need to talk.”

“I think that would be wise.”


End file.
